


Even Stars Burn Out

by Theia_Darkmoon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Ahsoka Tano, Dark Obi-Wan Kenobi, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Rako Hardeen Arc (Star Wars: Clone Wars), Sith Ahsoka Tano, Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:00:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26595637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theia_Darkmoon/pseuds/Theia_Darkmoon
Summary: A spin-off the fanfiction 'Hard Deviations' in which Obi-Wan Kenobi chooses not to save the fellow bounty hunters in the Box, and Falls much earlier.Obi-Wan Kenobi is like a star in the Force, unyeilding in his Light. But, as we all know, all things die.... even stars burn out.
Relationships: Cad Bane & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dooku & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Comments: 17
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flute25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flute25/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hard Deviations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9384584) by [flute25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flute25/pseuds/flute25). 



“Finish him, Hardeen.”

The words resonated through Obi-Wan's mind, echoing their way through to the young Jedi's soul. The syllables felt like mercury, creeping their icy touch over his heart, numbing it, tainting it with Dooku's Force presence. The eerie cold of the Dark Side.

 _“Focus on the here and now, Padawan.”_ Qui-Gon's voice spoke, the voice of his Master, the voice of Dooku's Padawan, Qui-Gon, who had raised Obi-Wan Kenobi from teenagehood-

-But there was no Obi-Wan Kenobi here. Here and now, he was Rako Hardeen. And he knew what Hardeen would do in such a situation.

There was already so much blood on his hands because of this single mission. He had known what Hardeen would do – and had done it, or rather, had not done anything, had left the other bounty hunters to die in this death trap. A Jedi would have saved them. There were no Jedi here.

All of these thoughts happened in the span of a single moment, after which Obi-Wan – Hardeen, he was Hardeen now – relaxed. It would be a mercy, saving Eval from the clutches of Dooku, saving the Chancellor from the kidnapping plot.

Hardeen reached into the vibroblade in his ankle sheath, held the shining durasteel to Eval's throat, pinching the pressure points that rendered the lower half of his body useless. Hardeen breathed in.

_(He walked a forest of white and black, monochromatic scale making it impossible to see where the ground ended and the sky begun. Clouds of smoky black coalesced into one, a rolling mass of shadow. It rained, and rained, and rained, and the rain was blood, and the snow snarled crimson. The sky bled red, marred with violent purple bruises. The black and white had been an illusion – the forest, the world was red, shades of scarlet threaded with ice, with the mercurial chill which penetrated his world. He screamed, and the forest screamed with him, a pure expression of rage. The red forest shattered and shards tore into him, gleaming with the blood of a thousand, his among them. The crimson fragments swirled around him like a sandstorm, ripping at him with a chill that left him breathless. It was only when he accepted the cold that he felt the bloodstained shards become one once more, the forest of red beating to his own heartbeat. It was only when he heard the screams that he realized he was in the heart of a kyber crystal corrupted by the Dark Side.)_

Hardeen breathed out, and tore the blade into Eval's arteries, blood as crimson as his mindscape spraying into the air like a fountain. Maniacal glee spread from his sternum, and he basked in the suffering of the dying man. Obi-Wan's hand moved almost subconsciously to grip the man's spine right through the gaping wound, and snap it with a resounding crack.

He saw Dooku smile, a smile of deep satisfaction and approval. “Good,” the man thundered, and Hardeen staggered back from the gruesome sight. Moralo Eval's eyes were spattered with blood, so that, just for a moment, the blood looked like tears.

“Now, we must decide who will lead the attack on the Chancellor,” the Sith Lord continued. “Perhaps a challenge, a duel – I understand that Concordians participate in these quite often, Mister Hardeen.”

The Concordian scowled up at Dooku. “Been in a fair few.” He muttered, and the Force rang with truth. He had been in many one-on-one duels to the death, most of which had been unfair fights, so to say that he had been in a few fair fights was, in fact, in complete honesty.

Bane clambered down into the Box from his position on the walls, and the fight began.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle begins, and our hero (villain) discovers a new power.

It was a battle, it was a dance, both Bane and Obi-Wan circling each other under the watchful eye of Dooku. Occasionally, one would see a chance and strike with their blade, sending bright red or green blood flying free of their restraints.

 _Free of their restraints_... the Sage of Dwartii, Yanjon, who believed that the Dark Side shaped the Light like water in a vessel.

_Water in a vessel..._

He remembered reading something about the Duros – how their bodies were over eighty percent water. He didn't have the ability to shape and move water as easily as Luminara – water was her speciality – but he had studied with her often when she was learning how the power worked. It might be possible to actually control the blood of certain species.

He would have to be discreet, and he knew that even as he ducked a blow that would have decapitated him. If he applied to much of the Force, Dooku would be bound to notice. But the idea was within him, his inner darkness pacing like some caged beast, purring at the thought.

 _~You have the power.~_ it whispered _. ~You can end this now, prevent Bane's suffering that he will undoubtedly face. You have the power, you are the power, and wouldn't it feel so good?!~_

 _I am a Jedi!_ A small voice, growing weaker by the second, screamed desperately.

 _~No,~_ replied the traitorous – but it wasn't really traitorous, that was the other one – voice slyly. _~You are the ruthless murderer, the brutal Concordian, Rako Hardeen.~_

The urge was in his bones now, calling to him. Surely it was the right thing to do, in order to save the Chancellor! Obi-Wan might not care much for the man, but he was the leader of the Republic – and, more importantly, Anakin's friend.

Hardeen saw his chance, the Force with him always, and lunged at the Duros, bowling him over. Bane obviously hadn't expected that, as he landed sprawled on the ground, shocked. Obi-Wan reached and held Bane down, shaking slightly with the pleasure of the Dark. He sunk deeper into it than he ever had, enjoying the beautiful caress of the icy, inky-black waters as they swallowed him.

And there, shining a murky green, was Bane. He had an unusually high level of the Force – not enough to become a Jedi, but enough to give him extraordinary reflexes and instincts. 

Kenobi felt the urging of the Force, and moved to embrace it. Strands of red tangled like a web in Bane's life force, and he suddenly knew how to end it. If he moved _this_ strand _there_ , cross _that_ with the thread over _here_ , the wound he inflicted upon the spider web would cause the pressure to overflow, and trickle the power into his own mental hands.

Hardeen grasped the blood of the other bounty hunter in a clenched fist, drawing it away from the Duros's heart, towards his throat. Bane turned a dark aquamarine as his blood burst through smaller vessels. Just at the right moment, Obi-Wan struck with his blade, bursting the pressurized veins and pulling the blood out more quickly than was normal, slick and sticky. It was easier to do when he tapped into the chill of darkness, letting it flow through him. The Jedi's body convulsed as spasms of thrill echoed within. The Dark Side made him feel alive, and it showed him the truth, rather than the collection of lies and hypocrisy the Jedi taught.

He never noticed Dooku's gaze turning molten gold as he drew the young man towards the edge of the abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always had this headcanon that Luminara is a waterbender, for some reason. Really didn't mean for Obi-Wan to be a bloodbender, but it just sort of happened.


	3. Chapter 3

Obi-Wan collapsed inside his _-Hardeen's, everything here was Hardeen's-_ quarters, hands raising to his temples. He was doing the right thing; all of this was necessary.

  
(Even when he looked at his hands and they were stained a deep crimson. Even though all he felt was the chill of darkness. Even when he searched his gaze in the refresher mirror and his eyes were venom yellow as poison-)

  
He would do this for the Jedi. For the Republic. For the galaxy. For Anakin. For Ahsoka, who would look at him with such hope from her standing military position, and his mind _screamed at him because they were training **child soldiers-**_

“No,” he groaned, and the voice was Hardeen's. “No, no, _no_!”

  
There was a _thrill_ in the Force, darkness writhing around the young Jedi, a sort of _zing_ noise, a clatter, and the sound of glass breaking. Kenobi raised his head to stare at his fist-blade, the one soaked in phantom blood, which was embedded in the 'fresher window after having torn a path through the caf table. It had appeared to strike the water supply, too, and a dark liquid seeped from around the glass shards.

It wasn't blood. It _wasn't_.

  
“Oh, my!” projected a mechanical voice. “I suppose it is up to me to dispose of this mess you left here, you flimsy organic!”

  
Hardeen whirled around and placed a hand around the droid’s head, crushing it in a fist.

Or, trying to, anyway. Apparently, physics took offense to such an action. 

“It is a 0.5 to 99.5 percent chance that your delicate hand of flesh would allow for me to be destroyed, Organic _[Identified as]_ Rako Hardeen. Count Dooku requests that you join him for dinner, and I might add that with your pathetic organic body, you will most likely be late by 0.01 seconds. I would suggest upgrading yourself with mechanical body parts, as they are evidently superior.”

  
“Tell me, droid,” Hardeen growled. “What is your designation?”

  
The insolent piece of scrap metal tilted its head in a mockery of confusion, before replying in its tinny voice. “I am TC-317.”

“I'll remember you.” Said Hardeen warningly.

“I doubt it,” the droid remarked. “You organics have such measly storage databanks, it is amazing that you know your own designation. In fact, I calculate that-"

“I think what you should _calculate_ is that I have the power to order you to the scrap heap. Obviously, your storage databanks are in question if you can't recall that.” Hardeen said scathingly.

“Follow me, Rako Hardeen, and I shall endeavour to erase my databanks of this moment.”

* * *

  
They arrived in an elaborate dining hall that was unnecessarily large, in Obi-Wan's opinion. The kind of room where a noble flaunts their title, saying ‘ _Look at me, I can afford to waste all this space, aren't I special?’_

Dooku was seated at a ridiculously long table. Obi-Wan was beginning to suspect that all these long corridors and tables were so that Dooku could billow his cape for dramatic effect. It seemed a trait of their lineage.

  
“Please, take a seat Mr. Hardeen.”  
Obi-Wan hesitated as he noticed that the plates on the table were limited to two. His anticipated dread grew even stronger; a one-on-one meeting with Dooku?

  
Dooku was watching him. Hardeen could feel the man's cold, black gaze assessing him, probing him for weakness. Like a snake, searching for prey in the darkness. Like mercury, liquid metal, sending its chill into even the smallest of holes.

  
He may have found some _(many)_ in Obi-Wan Kenobi. But he would find none in Rako Hardeen.

  
Hardeen sat to the left of Dooku, where a plate lay waiting with the appropriate utensils set. Where a business associate would sit.

  
 _~Where,~_ something deep within him whispered, _~an Apprentice would sit.~_

  
Something... at that thought, something stirred, some primal desire, thick and raw and pure, undulated passion. For a moment, he wanted it, this man's approval and pride, he desired to kneel before him and _beg_ for his attention.

  
But only for a moment. When it had passed, Obi-Wan jolted slightly, shocked at the thoughts going through his own mind. Dooku _must_ be doing something to him, affecting his thoughts somehow. He certainly wouldn't think that on his own.

  
“You must focus on the present, Hardeen; inner turmoil such as that I sense from you shall not help you now.” The Sith intoned.

  
“Yes, Ma – Lord.” Obi-Wan smoothly covered his mistake, but - _Force_ , the man had sounded just like Qui-Gon! He had slipped back into old habits, nearly calling Dooku ‘Master'. How Obi-Wan's heart ached at the thought.

  
Inside him, unseen to the normal eye, the caged beast teetering on the edge of balance broke another chain of light tethering it deep below the surface.


	4. Chapter 4

A door hissed open to one side of the dining hall, and Obi-Wan turned his head to see a droid enter with the first course – a dish of greenery. Dooku glanced up at him after taking a small bite of the leafy greens. 

“Do help yourself, Mr. Hardeen. I assure you nothing here is poisoned or otherwise compromised.”

  
Kenobi narrowed his eyes at the Sith Lord, but he had to admit that poisoning didn't appear to be Dooku's style – at least, not when he was in the room. Obi-Wan knew that if _he_ was poisoning someone, he would make it slow-acting and layered, so that it was only a poison when combined with something else. It would make him seem blameless, not that he would do such a thing. Poisoning was so very uncivilized.

  
Hardeen grabbed a random fork and began eating as Dooku continued.

“You know, Hardeen, you are an enigma. I wonder, why did you kill Obi-Wan Kenobi? Were you hired? If so, I would very much like to meet your employer. You see, I am rather disappointed by his death. He showed great promise, and I had hoped one day to enter into…more civilized discussions with him about the direction of the Jedi Order. To share some information that I believe he would have found quite compelling.”

  
Obi-Wan stiffened for a minute moment, but it was enough. Dooku's eyes sharpened and he raised an eyebrow in an expression eerily similar to the one Obi-Wan gave Anakin when his former Padawan did something especially reckless.

“Well, Mr. Hardeen?”

Kenobi recalled their conversation on Geonosis, and the fragments of holograms the Council had collected about the Sith Master.

“He called himself Sideous. Had a black cloak on, hood up. Stupid, in my opinion. Who goes around showing people that they're hiding something? Seems a good way to get yourself killed.”

  
Dooku hummed, cold coal-black gaze boring into Hardeen's. “And would you know a great deal about espionage, Mr. Hardeen?”

“A bit. More used to impersonating authority.”

Obi-Wan reflected upon his many escapades in which the enemy wore amour. Including the time he had infiltrated Death Watch, when he and Satine had shared their first kiss.

“Did this Sideous say anything to draw a conclusion of his identity?” Dooku questioned.

Obi-Wan shrugged.  
“Dunno. Figured he was a Jedi of some kind.”

The Sith seemed almost amused. “And why, Mr. Hardeen, did you believe that?”

Kenobi felt the cold seep into his bones, and felt a trickle of fear. He didn't have his lightsaber, nor any help whatsoever, and he was alone in the clutches of a Sith Lord.

“Said something about the ‘Force' bringing him to a new apprentice, one younger and stronger than his current one.”

  
The chill in the room dropped even further, frost creeping along the walls to envelop the young Jedi. He shivered, shuddering at the poisonous yellow eyes of the Sith, and a series of thrills ran up his spine. The cold felt normal, natural, the power of the Dark comforting.

  
And that was what scared him the most.

Then, in a voice like thunder, the Dark Side spilling from him like storm clouds, Dooku hissed.  
 ** _“Skywalker.”_**

  
Obi-Wan's eyes widened; not Anakin, not his apprentice! He felt another tether fray, another part of him lost to darkness. The beast glared into his eyes, irises a beautiful gold and a smile showing sharp fangs that looked like it should be bloody.

  
Dooku appeared to regain control of himself, eyes darkening once more as the tide of power receded. Obi-Wan almost groaned as he felt the darkness dissipate. He... missed it, the comforting chill.

But only because of Hardeen, he firmly told himself. Hardeen was the one thinking these things. _Not_ Obi-Wan Kenobi.

  
The Force gently probed at him, and he allowed it inwards. But only for a moment did he allow himself to envelop the cold threads of the Dark Side-

  
_(He laughed in glee as he tore into another traitor, another jailor, another **slaver**. He thrust out a hand, drawing upon the darkness and folding it within. Bone shattered, blood spattered the earth, muscles tore and tendons snapped as he closed his hand into a fist and ripped out the heart of his enemy. His red blade, a mere extension of his will, danced like a flame to cut out the life of another. He deactivated his lightsaber as he turned to his Apprentice, who watched eagerly as she drank in the sight of yet another flame of light extinguished. She leaned into his embrace, pupils rapidly dilating as she felt the pleasure of the Dark Side. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, flashing him a bloody grin of sharp teeth. He searched her gaze, sending a pulse of affection through the Force, as he looked into the yellow eyes of Ahsoka Tano.)_

“I have a new task for you. You will be impersonating...” Here Dooku's lips twitched upwards. “A Jedi Knight."


	5. Chapter 5

Pine trees rustled their bare arms to the Serreno stars, outlined starkly against the moon. A susurrus, thought Obi-Wan, as he leaned over his balcony. He had always liked the word. There was something about it that reminded him of whispers.

  
_Susurrus susurrus susurrus susurrus...._

  
He breathed in deeply, inhaling the night air. The smell of snow carried itself on the wind, cold and sharp and crisp and bitter. There was something pure about it, that made him forget the war, the turmoil, the chaos, this mission, and brought him back to his Initiate days, young and afraid for his future, stargazing late at night in the Star Room of the Jedi Temple. Smell had an odd effect on the brain – bringing it back to years long past. The years before darkness, before he grew to revel in the Dark Side.

  
Dooku had not yet debriefed him on the new mission; choosing instead to remain frustratingly vague. “In time, my friend,” he had smiled grimly. “In time, you will receive the answers you seek.”

  
The Jedi sighed, watching the stars with a sharp gaze as though they may die before his eyes.

  
_All things die, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Even stars burn out..._

_The stars are defined by the infinite black through which they wheel._

_With each victory of the light, it is the dark that wins._

* * *

“Place your blade in a horizontal upper-guard, Hardeen. Ataru, while extravagant, relies on offense.”

  
Obi-Wan was in a bout of katas with Dooku, the man teaching him things he'd known for over two decades. As Hardeen was going undercover, the Sith Lord had decided to train the Concordian in lightsaber combat. Holding back was difficult, now that he had a blade of familiar blue in his hands. Kenobi didn't know who he was impersonating, but the hilt seemed rather like Qui-Gon's, for some reason. Perhaps all human Ataru hilts looked similar.

  
The sabers hummed as they swung through the forms, Dooku graceful and Hardeen blunt force. It almost was a form of torture, wielding an elegant weapon so brutally.   
Eventually, he gradually loosened his hold on his true skill, unveiling it slightly so that he was merely deemed ‘mediocre’. 

  
Something called to him, then. He wanted Dooku's attention, wanted to learn from him, desired the thrill of the Dark Side coursing through him, making his blood sing. The man was an excellent teacher – surely, he could show him his true potential and not give himself away.

  
Kenobi unmasked himself completely in Ataru, not tapping into the Force, but actually putting in the effort to leap and twirl in the air, which even Jedi younglings could do with ease. He flipped and hopped and spun out of the way of the red lightsaber, clashing his borrowed blue saber in a flurry of sparks.   
Only to find Dooku's hilt directly in the small of his back. One wrong move, and his spine would be severed. 

  
The Separatist wasn't even out of breath.  
“Blasted Jedi,” Hardeen growled, and Dooku smiled tightly.   
“Well done, Mr. Hardeen. You have my respect.”

  
Kenobi looked into dark eyes glinting in pride, and gasped. Pleasure filled him in waves of cold, endless power coursing through him to his fingertips. His eyes burned with golden flames, covered by his eyelids as he screwed up his face to keep himself from moaning. The monster inside roared with triumph, powerful and eternal as the dark itself. It wasn't free, not yet, but only one tether of light – the strongest – kept it from completely eclipsing the stars.

  
Dooku spoke once more and Obi-Wan jerked his head up, eyes blue again. He followed the Sith's words like a lifeline, heart and soul begging for his orders. Obi-Wan Kenobi was loyal to those who he felt deserved it, and this one the most of all of them.

  
Whenever he was around Dooku, everything was so _obvious_. He would follow this man, as was his duty. He would follow his orders unquestionably. But when he left him ... he regained control, as though the Count had been controlling him, a willing puppet.

Perhaps he had been.

And then, to his dark delight, there was a susurrus. The Force ebbed and swirled around him, comforting him in a cacophony of whispers. It was all so _clear_. Everything that had happened was the Will of the Force, it wanted him to learn from Dooku. 

  
_~To defeat your enemy, you must know them.~_ the Force sung. _~But the question, Little Jedi, is whom?~_

_Who is my true enemy?_

He did not see the Dark snuffing out the Light like the shadow in the heart of a flame, swallowing it from the inside.

_(What he did see were the beautiful tides of shining azure, bleeding crimson as he waded through them. When he glanced at his hands, they were a glistening, bloody scarlet.)_

  
He pushed himself off the polished marble floor, standing before the Sith Lord.  
Dooku inclined his head politely at the Concordian, and revealed a set of stairs leading below.

They were prison cells.

  
Obi-Wan was acutely aware of every detail around him as he breathed in the penetrating, dank chill of the stone rooms. Real stone too, not just duracrete. 

  
In one of the cells, guarded by ray shields, lay an unconscious man. He was not familiar to Kenobi, but he wore Jedi robes and had short cropped blonde hair.

  
“Rako Hardeen,” Dooku introduced, an amused glint in his eye, “Meet Jedi Knight Feemor, former Padawn of Qui-Gon Jinn. "


End file.
